


Liquid Courage

by OmoTrashy



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Alcohol, Angst, Canon compliant background character death, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Disassociation, Emetophilia, Hard degradation, I know I tag most of my fics that but seriously, M/M, Mind the Tags, Mindbreak, Public Humiliation, Public Nudity, Public Use, Referenced Watersports, Roman Showers, Vomiting, human toilet, probably me writing OOC shit and blaming it on alcohol
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-29
Updated: 2020-12-29
Packaged: 2021-03-11 01:40:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,979
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28397055
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OmoTrashy/pseuds/OmoTrashy
Summary: Lorenz finds himself in a compromising position as the result of a punishment.Ignatz takes advantage of having a captive audience. With the help of some wine to boost his confidence and loosen his lips, he vents to Lorenz about his personal issues with House Gloucester's bloody past and history of treating merchant families as collateral damage.A little more wine, and he completely unloads on him.
Relationships: Lorenz Hellman Gloucester/Ignatz Victor
Comments: 4
Kudos: 15





	Liquid Courage

**Author's Note:**

> CW: this contains emeto/vomit  
> PLEASE MIND THE TAGS AND WARNINGS.  
> I know I say this every fic, but seriously. This is the nastiest thing I've written to date. 
> 
> The rape/non-con is more of a background issue than the highlight of the fic, but it is still present. Please be wary.
> 
> Oh, and there's like one sentence of Lorenz/Ferdinand. Not enough to be worth tagging, but I still wanted to mention it in case it's a hard NOTP for anybody.
> 
> I know there's no canon evidence of Ignatz resenting Lorenz for what happened to the Kirsten family, but WHAT IF. What if.  
> I swear I love both Ignatz and Lorenz dearly. I'm so sorry for writing this.

After facing them at The Great Bridge of Myrddin, Lorenz' former professor had welcomed him back into their ranks with open arms.

If only the same could be said about the rest of the army.

The others were, understandably, dubious about him rejoining them. However, Lorenz had been told that he could earn back trust through "public service." 

He'd agreed to that arrangement, not fully understanding that it entailed being stripped naked and put in stockades for the public to use as they saw fit.

The reality was sobering now that he was in that situation. The wood that held his wrists and neck in place was all too real. His back and his legs ached from holding the same position for hours, and every bare inch from his skin felt sticky and violated. Throughout the day, his body had been used by knights, churchgoers, monastery clergy, merchants, and even by former classmates and people he'd once considered friends. They had fucked every hole he had available, pissed on him and inside him, spit on him, thrown garbage and rotting fruit at him, and jeered at him and called him names, with things like “traitor” and “Empire loyalist scum” being prevalent themes among the insults. 

Lorenz kept reminding himself that he just had to endure this until the end of the day. The sun was beginning to creep toward the horizon, bathing the sky in a golden glow. It was a ray of hope, a visual reminder that there was an end in sight for his torture.

A figure entered his range of vision, and Lorenz braced himself for the worst. After the countless others who had visited him today, another person was almost indistinguishable to him. His flowing clothes and olive color palette blurred in his vision, melding with the memory of everyone else he’d seen today. It wasn’t until the other man spoke that Lorenz recognized him.

“Lovely day we’re having, isn’t it? Although I suppose you’ve seen better days. Haven’t you, Lorenz?” 

Lorenz’ eyes shot open. He recognized that husky voice that brimmed with uncertainty. He’d heard it many times during his academy days; during class sessions when they were both a part of the Golden Deer house, and again when the two of them had both transferred to the Blue Lions house. He’d conversed with that voice over tea, drawing flustered words of protest forth when he offered him friendship and a title as a knight. Lorenz raised his head to look at Ignatz, who looked down at him with a conflicted expression that was far less kind than the way he’d gazed at him as a student. 

Why was Ignatz here? Had he come to use him as a toilet? As a warm, pliant hole? Neither options seemed characteristic of the meek yet refined man. Then again, Ferdinand carried himself with even more dignity and refinement than Ignatz, and yet he’d still rammed his cock down his throat and made him choke. Lorenz supposed he shouldn’t dismiss Ignatz, his intentions could be just as vile as everybody else who’d visited today. 

Lorenz’ breath caught in his throat as Ignatz moved. Rather than moving to do something awful to him, Ignatz avoided touching him completely. He leaned casually against the stockade that held Lorenz in place, and Lorenz heard the pop of a cork and the sloshing of fluid. Lorenz turned his head and watched as Ignatz raised a goblet to his lips while holding what appeared to be a bottle of wine in his other hand. 

Lorenz was confused. Had Ignatz come here… to drink? It had been five years, but he never would have expected that Ignatz, of all people, would become a lush during that time. “Pub… public intoxication seems… unlike you.” He rasped, noticing for the first time that day how painfully dry his throat was. 

“And public nudity seems unlike you. Yet, here you are.” Ignatz remarked cooly. It was hard to read his tone. “You’re correct, this isn’t something I’d usually do. I don’t usually drink much. I’m actually a bit of a lightweight. But, I fear that I need to drink to say what I need to say, and to do what I have in mind. I'm a bit of a coward in that way. I need a bit of liquid courage.” 

Ignatz drank down the rest of his cup as smoothly as if it were water. He poured himself another generous serving before balancing the wine bottle precariously on top of the wood. He crouched down to bring himself face-level with Lorenz. His normally warm eyes were tinted with a steely coolness, and he looked at him with a calculating glare as he continued to sip his wine. Lorenz flinched when Ignatz’ free hand brushed his hair out of his face and grazed his cheek. 

So Ignatz had come here with impure intentions, after all. Did he intend to violate his face, just as so many other men had?

“You look so much like your father, you know. Not that I've ever seen him in person, just in paintings.” Ignatz’ comment surprised him. His fingertip wandered across his face, tracing his high cheekbones, the narrow bridge of his nose, his thin lips, and his diamond-shaped chin. All features he shared with his father, in addition to his hair and eye color. 

“I never knew how repugnant art could be until I saw that man's portraits.” 

That added comment stung. Ignatz, renowned lover of beauty, thought his father’s portraits were repugnant? By extension, that surely meant that Ignatz found Lorenz’ face repulsive, too. How funny; after all he’d endured today, that was the comment that made him feel genuinely hurt.

Ignatz continued, “I thought I could separate you from him. I thought I could come to tolerate you. But you defected to the Empire, Lorenz. You really are your father's son. I see that clearly now.”

“I hope you'll understand, I didn't do such a thing out of defiance to the church or the Professor's cause. I had certain family matters that were inescapable.” Lorenz defended himself.

“Family matters?” Ignatz echoed. Lorenz nodded. Ignatz had come to the academy on the wishes of his family, even though it went against the grain of his own hopes and dreams. Surely he would understand the influence that one’s family could have on one’s choices!

“Raphael is such a good man. He's so forgiving. I… wish I could be like him. But I'm not.”

Lorenz’ brow furrowed. What did Raphael have to do with their conversation?

Oh. Family matters. _Family matters._ Shit. House Gloucester and the Victor family both had a bit of a… complicated past regarding the Kirsten family, with House Gloucester arguably shouldering most of the guilt. Ignatz still held heavily onto the past. With the darkness that flashed through Ignatz’ eyes, it was clear that Lorenz had dredged something up.

“I know he tells me I should stop dwelling on the past, but I just can't stop thinking about what happened between our parents. For years, I held onto that guilt. I lost countless nights of sleep because I couldn't stop thinking it was my fault. Sometimes, I'd fret about it so much that my entire body would shake. When I first came to the academy, I couldn't even look at Raphael without feeling like my heart would stop beating and I'd drop dead. I couldn't even look at my best friend! Why did I do that? None of it was my fault, Lorenz. It was yours.”

A sharp crack struck the side of Lorenz’ face, and hot pain immediately blossomed where Ignatz had hit him. The offending man grasped his chin and yanked his face harshly up. “Do you hear me, Lorenz?! It's your fault!” His voice cracked under the strain of uncharacteristically loud volume. A stray droplet of spit hit Lorenz’ lip, and he winced at how heavily Ignatz’ breath already reeked of alcohol.

“Ignatz, that's enough--”

“What? Don't you dare tell me when to stop.” Ignatz’ hand left his chin and drew back. Lorenz feared that he’d hit him again. He spoke fast, hoping to diffuse the situation.

“You're free to continue airing your grievances with me, but please, put the chalice down. You've had enough to drink.”

Lorenz never suspected that Ignatz would be an angry drunk. Lorenz never imagined he’d see Ignatz drunk, at all. Beer, wine, and liquor had made appearances at feasts and celebrations even during their school days. When he had seen Ignatz partake, his face had been quick to flush, and he’d had quick bouts of giddiness and increased confidence before being one of the first out of the group to retire, complaining of dizziness and saying he’d like to lie down. Ignatz had always preferred white wines heavily diluted with ice, or the weakest ale that was available. Nothing like the rich red wine that appeared to be in the bottle he’d brought with him. 

He was glad he’d never seen Ignatz like this during their school days. His pupils were blown, and his honeyed eyes brimmed with venom. His breath came out in quick, irregular puffs. The man before him was seething with an unpredictable energy that scared Lorenz. 

Ignatz’ expression shifted, and he let out a short, singular laugh, though the darkness in his eyes didn’t subside.

Unpredictable, indeed.

“Hm. Do you like this wine, Lorenz? It's such a beautiful color of maroon. I picked it out just for you.” Ignatz thrust the cup in Lorenz’ face. Lorenz could see a finger’s width of liquid still swirling around the bottom. It was deep red, almost purple in color. Lorenz’ trained nose could place it as a Ruby Port, though he couldn’t quite determine the region of origin. Either way, it was a heavy dessert wine. Certainly not something that Ignatz should be slugging down like a watered-down ale. 

Before Lorenz could drink from the chalice offered to him- anything to quench the dryness in his throat -Ignatz yanked it away and stood up quickly. Too quickly, it seemed, as Lorenz watched the other man stumble. He eventually regained his balance, and Lorenz heard him pouring himself more wine, directly opposing what Lorenz had suggested he do.

“Anyway, don't try to change the subject. Your father killed Raphael's parents. He used them as pawns for political gain. Was it worth it for your family? Because it certainly affected Raphael and his family! Raphael was only fifteen when his parents were killed. He was barely a man yet when he had to grow up and figure out how he was going to provide for his family. He says it doesn't bother him, but I can see it in his eyes. He still hurts over it. I know him better than anyone, and I can see how much he hurts.” Ignatz delivered his words with passion, and punctuated each sentence with a swig of wine. 

“Oh, and Maya- that's Raphael's little sister, if you care -she was _eight_ when it happened! What were you doing when you were eight? Living a life of luxury, I'm sure. Well, not Maya. G-Goddess, that poor girl. Nobody should lose their parents that young.”

Lorenz hung his head heavily in shame. Though Ignatz’ words were starting to drawl together as intoxication took its hold, nothing he said was incorrect. Whatever Lorenz did say to that, it had to be genuine and from the heart. “I know I can't atone for the past. But, do you remember the offer I made to you? Of knighthood, after the war? That offer extends to Raphael, as well. Neither he nor Maya would ever want for anything. I'd make sure of it.”

“You could give him the entire… damn… Gloucester fortune, and it wouldn't bring his parents back.” Ignatz spat. Intoxicated or not, his response was quite rude to something that Lorenz thought was very generous. 

Clearly he’d been overly generous as well while assessing Ignatz’ potential as a friend. He may be able to paint a pretty picture and pick out a pleasant tea set, but that didn’t necessarily mean he was fit to stand toe-to-toe with nobles. His obsession with the past prevented him from maturing into the gentleman that he had the potential to be. It was childish, truly. The man before him now was utterly devoid of dignity or class. Even from his current position of vulnerability and humiliation, Lorenz thought it fit to judge him.

As if to prove Lorenz’ point, Ignatz chose to abandon the cup completely, and take heavy gulps straight from the bottle.

 _For Goddess’ sake, Ignatz. How much do you plan to drink? You’ve said your piece. Clearly courage isn’t your concern anymore._

Lorenz wanted badly to voice his concerns, but he feared earning another bruise on his face to match the one that Ignatz had surely already left. He wasn’t sure what Ignatz’ intentions were anymore, and the uncertainty had him on edge.

Lorenz jolted at the sound of the wine bottle clattering to the ground. The high-pitched sound it made suggested that it was empty, or very close to empty.

"I'm sick of you askin' me to be your knight. I'm not gonna do that… not while the Count still breathes. If he ever gets 'n arrow through the skull, I'll thinkaboutit." Ignatz slurred. Even though his ability to speak was quickly deteriorating, his words lit a flame of indignity in Lorenz' chest. 

"Now, that's quite enough! I understand that you're upset, but I don't like the implication that you wish death upon my father! And knighthood is quite the gracious offer. An offer that I made, not out of pity, but as a friend."

"...Not friends. 'M not your friend, 'n neither is Raphael." 

Surely that couldn’t be true. Ignatz was drunk. He was very, very drunk. He wasn’t coherent. He had no idea what he was saying.

Then again, Lorenz had heard somewhere that a drunk man was an honest man. Somewhere in the back of his mind, Lorenz had the awful suspicion that it was true. That Ignatz wasn’t his friend. And even if Raphael was his friend, surely Ignatz didn’t want Lorenz anywhere near him.

That was fine. Truly, it was fine. Some friendships just didn’t stand the test of time. It had been five years, after all. Perhaps Ignatz was never truly his friend to begin with. Perhaps he had only shared tea with him because he was afraid to decline. He had truly been non-confrontational in the academy, after all. Perhaps the thought of becoming a Gloucester Knight had always disgusted him. 

Maybe Raphael, as genuine as he seemed, never truly liked him either! Maybe he saw him as something to be pitied, and he shoved scraps of food in his direction the same way one would offer scraps of food to a starving dog in the street. Raphael and Ignatz were close, after all. Maybe they shared a mutual hatred of Count Gloucester, and by extension, a hatred of Lorenz Hellman Gloucester.

That was fine. Lorenz reassured himself of that, even as tears stung his eyes.

" _Goddess… damn…_ s'all hittin' at once… m' so dizzy…" Ignatz exhaled as he staggered toward Lorenz. He unclasped his cloak, probably growing too hot, and flung the cloth over the edge of the wood. He removed his glasses and shoved them in his trouser pocket. Perhaps he thought that would help with the dizziness? 

As Ignatz braced his hands on the edge of the stockade and pressed his forehead against the wood, Lorenz couldn’t help but feel bad for the other man, despite everything he’d said to him. Things could go badly for Ignatz if somebody happened upon them and found _two_ men splayed over the stockade and incapacitated in some way. Lorenz chanced a glance upward. Ignatz’ face was flushed, and his bleary eyes had lost their previous venom. He drew terrified, ragged breaths through an open mouth, and his face was a mess of drool and wet snot. As Lorenz had suspected, he looked downright pitiable.

“If you are dizzy, you should go lie down.” Lorenz said curtly. It was a not-so-subtle indication that he wanted the conversation to end. He bit back the urge to remark that it was Ignatz’ own fault he was feeling this way. 

Ignatz stayed hunched over him, wordless and unmoving. Lorenz was perfectly content staring at the other man's shoes in silence for as long as it took for him to pull himself together. Ignatz had given Lorenz a lot to mull over. As far as Lorenz was concerned, silence was preferable to anything that could come out of the other man's mouth. 

Ignatz let out a loud, violent-sounding hiccup. Lorenz felt a dollop of… _something_ splatter on his scalp. It was probably just excess saliva, but the fear that it wasn't made his blood run cold. He did _not_ like how drunk Ignatz was, and he did _not_ like the way he was hunched over him.

"Oh, don't you _dare--!_ " 

The body above him lurched, and the hiccups grew in intensity until they evolved into a heave. Lorenz ducked his head and screwed his eyes and mouth shut in time for a waterfall of vomit to splatter over his head.

Another flood of it came immediately after the first.

And yet another, after that.

Every wet, warm wave that washed over Lorenz knocked the breath right out of him, as if he were being hit in the gut with the hilt of a sword. 

There was finally a break in the waves. Lorenz felt as if he was freezing, despite the hot liquid drenching his hair. His ears rang, and he could feel the beat of his heart high in his head. Despite all of the sensations he was feeling, there was a part of Lorenz that didn't feel that this was real. It _couldn't_ be real.

Ignatz loudly exhaled above him, and he spit a couple of times. Lorenz felt it spatter on the top of his head. It felt like mere raindrops compared to the downpour he'd just unleashed. 

"Glad I made it to the toilet in time." Ignatz rasped weakly, though the intention of snark was unmistakable. 

Lorenz thrashed against his restraints. The indignity of the situation hit him like a brick wall, and the anger roiled in his stomach and his throat, until he _screamed_. It was drawn out and wordless, full of humiliation and rage. He cursed these damnable restraints. He cursed the dozens, if not hundreds of people who had spent the day defiling him. And he cursed Ignatz, who had emotionally projected on him before literally projectiling on him.

Lorenz eventually ran out of breath and spite. Each gasp of air he drew in stunk, like the rancid, filthy floor of a tavern. "Ignatz Victor, you are _foul_! Absolutely vile!" He spat, breathlessly but passionately. 

"You're fou--" Ignatz' retort was cut short by choked gagging. Another warm deluge spilled over him. 

Once Lorenz was reasonably sure that Ignatz was done for the time being, he opened his eyes. He wished he hadn't. A large, burgundy puddle painted the ground below him. In some spots, the consistency of it was closer to a jam or a sauce than it was to wine. Other than that, there was little evidence that it had been in Ignatz' stomach at all. It seemed that he hadn't even kept it down long enough for it to become tainted with the brown tinge of bile.

_"It's such a beautiful color of maroon. I picked it out just for you."_

Lorenz recalled Ignatz' words from before. His stomach dropped and an absolutely frigid chill crept down his spine at the realization that this disgusting act may have been premeditated.

"Consider your offer of employment--" he hissed, "-- _rescinded!_ "

"I wouldn't want to work--" Another gag. "--for a family--" Another heave. "--like yours!"

By this point, Ignatz was only releasing little splatters, rather than full on floods. Eventually, even that ebbed, until his heaves were completely fruitless. His body still spasmed and he retched in a way that sounded painful. It was as if his body was trying to rid itself of poison. 

Lorenz couldn't bring himself to feel sorry for him. He couldn't bring himself to feel anything. The wood around his neck and wrists which had previously served to ground him felt too sticky and squishy now. His vision spun, as if some of the alcohol had seeped through the pores of his skin and intoxicated him. The ringing in his ears had grown deafening.

He vaguely registered a commotion as a unrecognizable knight pushed Ignatz out of the way. The man crumbled to the ground. Lorenz couldn't tell if he was still conscious or not. 

Had the knights come to release him? At this point, Lorenz wasn't sure if he'd feel any relief from his stockades being unlocked. The damage had already been done. 

Lorenz honestly may have preferred if Ignatz had sexually assaulted him. So many others had already done it, what was one more? It would have been easier to push to the back of his mind, to let it blend with the rest of the day and lock it away in his brain behind a shield of repression. 

He would have even preferred Ignatz pissing on him, or spitting on him, or throwing garbage at him. Instead, he'd thought of the most vile, humiliating treatment possible for him. Beyond the horrors of what Lorenz could have imagined. It would certainly be memorable, no matter how Lorenz tried to bury it.

Leave it to Ignatz to get creative.

The more the knights lingered, the clearer it became that they weren't here to rescue him. Rather, they were opportunists, intending to take advantage of what had been made readily available. 

Through the din in his ears, Lorenz could make out their distorted voices.

"Damn it all, someone ruined the public fuck. We should have gotten here sooner. I told you people would start getting weirder the later it got." One said.

"Yeah, yeah." The other responded. "Still, it seems wasteful to come all this way and not do something." 

One of the knights picked something up off the ground and waved it front of Lorenz' face mockingly. Through hazy vision, Lorenz identified it as Ignatz' discarded wine bottle.

"No way, you're not gonna…" One of the knights burst into raucous laughter as the other one circled behind Lorenz.

Lorenz knew he should be terrified of whatever they had planned. For some reason, he just felt blissfully numb. Whatever they had planned for him, it couldn't be filthier than what he'd already endured.

His unfocused vision flitted past the knight and toward the sky. The sun had almost disappeared completely beneath the horizon. The rays that he'd once gazed at with hope had faded into a dull, barely perceivable glow. 

The day was almost over. That meant his torture was almost over. His completion of his punishment would mean that things could go back to normal.

Lorenz didn't care.

He knew he should care. But he was afraid that if he forced himself to try to feel, he'd be gripped with the realization that things _couldn't_ go back to normal. Not with Ignatz. Not with his Professor. Not with any of his allies. 

So for now, he didn't push the issue. He reveled in the blissful numbness, in the intoxication without sickness. He was vaguely aware of a burning pressure in his backside, but even that sensation wasn't enough to ground him. He felt as if he were floating. 

Lorenz ignored the knights completely, and allowed his unfocused gaze to linger on the sunset. 

Like everything else Ignatz had said, the words he'd spoken were true. At least it was a lovely day.

**Author's Note:**

> I don't know if that's how to mindbreak??
> 
> Anyway sorry y'all had to see that. Thanks for sticking that out. Feel free to let me know if I'm missing any tags or content warnings.
> 
> Feel free to shoot me requests/chat with me on CuriousCat!  
> https://curiouscat.qa/OmoTrashy


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